The Impossible Race: Cragbridge Hall, Volume 3 (6 page)

Abby walked over to the closet in the medical unit wall and opened its doors. She began to thumb through the clothing Grandpa had been wearing when he was tranquilized. It had all been stored here. Abby felt the blazer, covering every inch. She had no idea where something might be hidden. Of course the sphere wasn’t there; Abby had kept it to make sure it was safe. She repeated the same drill with the trousers in the drawer and his shoes. She even brought them over to Grandpa and pressed his fingers along every surface. She knew he had built shoes, belts, and other clothes with fingerprint-activated secret compartments.

Nothing.

She examined her grandfather’s rings. Had they been programmed to do something? She looked back at the man on the bed. Maybe he kept something in what little hair he had—or in his beard. That didn’t seem likely. It would be something very precious and keeping something there seemed easy for someone else to notice or discover.

Nothing.

She couldn’t think of anything else until, as she was closing the closet doors, she noticed something leaning in the corner of the room. Something that wouldn’t fit in the drawer. Grandpa’s cane.

The Cane

The cane had an ornate handle but a simple wooden shaft. Abby tapped on it every few inches all the way down to the rubber end. She was listening for a hollow compartment somewhere. It sounded firm.

She inspected it closely, looking for breaks in the grain that might signal that it had been pieced together and held something inside. The body appeared to be crafted from a single piece of oak. At least that was Abby’s best guess. She wasn’t exactly a wood expert.

No clues. At all. But if there was something else physical to control the Bridge, this had to be it. Didn’t it? She couldn’t think of anything else that her grandfather always carried with him.

She grabbed the handle and tried to twist it. It wouldn’t give. She gripped the shaft with one hand and the handle with the other and pulled. Surprisingly, the cane lengthened. Not by much, but the handle slid back a few inches, exposing a metal band around the wood. Abby touched the metal. When she pulled back, she could see her fingerprint on the band. Then the band shifted into the handle, revealing a small screen beneath it. Words scrolled across it:

Bring this key, not to my 89 Liberty Street, but something closer to Foote Avenue and Kiowa Street.

It was a message from her grandfather. Abby’s pulse quickened just knowing she was on the right trail. But she had no idea what the message meant. That was nothing new. Her grandpa always made her work for her answers.

• • •

The four friends passed a pair of teachers griping about the tardy policy. Derick, Abby, Carol, and Rafa slowed their pace so the teachers would be out of sight as they approached the door.

“Why are we here again?” Carol asked.

“The clue was a reference to different laboratories of Nikola Tesla,” Abby explained.

“That is a crazy name,” Carol said. “I love it.”

“It took me a little while to figure it out,” Abby admitted. “Tesla was an inventor, and Liberty Street and Foote Avenue were places he had laboratories. The message meant that we shouldn’t go to his first laboratory, but to one he worked in after he was more established and had financial backing. So if we compare that to Grandpa, this would be a laboratory he had after he was established.”

Abby raised her hand and could feel it being scanned, but the light didn’t turn green. The door was still locked.

“He said to bring the key,” Rafa reminded. “It looks like we need it.”

“The message said, ‘Bring
this
key,’” Derick corrected. “And it was on the cane, so do you think he means the cane is also some sort of key?”

“Probably,” Abby said. She pulled out the cane from her backpack. It had been too long to fit in entirely, so the rubber bottom stuck out, but she would have felt weirder holding a cane as she walked the halls. Abby lifted the cane to the lock. She couldn’t exactly thread it into a keyhole. She was hoping that just bringing it close to the lock would do something.

Nothing happened.

Again, Abby pulled on the cane and exposed the metal band beneath. She touched it, and the cane vibrated. She saw numbers automatically appear on the security lock near the door, and the door popped open.

They quickly stepped inside and closed the door. The walls were filled with bookshelves, screens with blueprints, several locked cabinets, and a few booths. One portion of the room held a Chair, a metal plate on its back bent up, wires flaring out from beneath. Another part of the office had controls to the Bridge. A machine that Abby didn’t recognize stood in a corner. It looked like a small table with a console, a round container on the side, and a large, thick safe-like compartment beneath.

“We use machines like this in metal shop,” Rafa said, looking at the same mechanism. “It’s used for the small stuff.” Abby hadn’t thought about it before, but that made sense. Grandpa used lockets and keys and black boxes to teach about his secrets. Someone had to make them, and Grandpa couldn’t trust just anyone with the secret messages they contained. So he made them himself. It was a wonder her grandpa found time for it all.

A large desk stood in the middle of the lab with a chaotic mess of machinery scattered across its top.

An image of Grandpa appeared, this one full-size. As always, he wore his loafers, casual khaki pants, a button-up shirt, and his blue blazer. He rubbed his bald head, then smoothed his fluffy white mustache. “Welcome to my office.” He spread his arms wide, his cane hanging on his wrist. “Have a seat.” The image of Grandpa motioned toward the plush chair behind his desk.

Abby’s heart swelled and hurt at the same time. She was listening to her grandfather again, but she knew his real body lay in the medical unit, still unconscious.

“Go ahead, Abby,” Derick said, nodding toward the chair. “You’re the one who started figuring all this out.”

“What a gentleman,” Carol gushed.

As soon as Abby sat, screens lowered from the ceiling. They covered the bookshelves and cases and drawings. It was like theater in the round.

“Unless I’m wrong,” the image of Grandpa said, “you have come here wondering if the Bridge can show you even more than you have yet discovered.” He smiled, wrinkles bunching up at the corners of his mouth.

“I admit to having another secret or two. By the data related to your fingerprint, you already know the Bridge can show the past and present. Perhaps you wonder if it can also show the future.” His white eyebrows raised. “Before we answer that question, I believe you have to consider other questions. For example, if it
can
show you the future, should you look?” He pointed toward Abby in the seat with his cane.

Abby sat there a moment, thinking about the question. Under normal conditions she wasn’t sure about the answer. In this case, it seemed more important. Her brother’s life depended on it. In fact, hundreds, thousands, or even millions of lives that would get the Ash also depended on it.

“We live in a world where we cannot naturally see the future. I believe that has many benefits.” The image of Grandpa paced the laboratory. “For example, there are some things about Nikola Tesla that I have always admired.” A slender, mustached man in a suit appeared on the screens. “He is the inventor that changed and improved motors, radio, and the channeling of electricity.” The image on the screens changed to show the inventor sitting in a chair while a large coil three times his size shot bolts of electricity in every direction. It was like a concentrated lightning storm.

“Tesla idolized Thomas Edison,” Grandpa continued, “but the two became bitter enemies. Tesla fought for his idea of providing electricity through alternating current. Edison fought back, claiming direct current was better.” Screens showed Edison speaking about the dangers of his opponent’s electricity and even threatening to show what it would do to animals. “But alternating current was the stronger idea and eventually won out.”

Abby hadn’t really heard of Tesla before her grandfather’s first clue. If Tesla’s idea was better than Edison’s, why wasn’t he more famous? “Tesla even had the idea of providing free electricity.” An image appeared of a large tower under construction. “And his work was well under way until the businessman who was supposed to be financing his work pulled the plug and ruined Tesla’s reputation.”

“And this,” Grandpa said, pointing at the screen. It showed an old man lying on a bed in a seedy hotel room, his skin taut around his cheekbones and his eyes sunken. He looked like he hadn’t eaten well in weeks. “This is how Nikola Tesla died. Penniless, unknown, and all alone. The man had over five thousand patents in his name and changed the world forever, but this was his end—forgotten in a hotel room.”

Grandpa looked toward Abby in the desk chair. “If he had known this is how it would end, would he have made our world better? If he could have foreseen the heartache, the breakdowns, would he have worked as hard?” The image of Grandpa took a few guarded steps. “And what about me? Would I have invented the Bridge if I could do it all again?” He looked ahead very seriously then exhaled.

That was a good question. If he had known it would lead to him and his son and daughter-in-law lying unconscious for weeks, would he have done it? If he had known it could possibly lead to his grandson’s death, and Muns in control, would he have gone through with it? Abby wasn’t sure.

Grandpa placed his hand on his chest. “I believe we need to do our very best. We have a responsibility to think about the consequences of our actions, but not to overly worry about the future.” He pointed his cane at Abby. “You need to think very seriously about whether or not you should see the future, if in fact, the Bridge can do that. Seeing the opposition we would face in the future may be a great burden. Perhaps even a pitfall.”

The top of Grandpa’s desk shifted back and another flat surface rose to the top. On it lay what looked like over a hundred items. One looked like a tangled mess of wire, another like a metal star, another like a silver bowl. There was a great variety in their shapes, but each was small enough to fit in the palm of Abby’s hand. “If you would like to pursue this question further,” Grandpa said, “perhaps one of these objects will help. You will need to make a choice without knowing the future, without knowing the consequence of picking that object.”

“Wow,” Carol said. “Those are kind of amazing, but I have no idea how they will help us answer the question.”

“I guess we just pick one and see what it does,” Derick suggested.

“I’ll take the star,” Carol said, “for obvious reasons.” She walked over and snatched it from the table. Immediately she shook and fell to the ground, dropping the star back on the desk.

Abby rushed out of her seat. “What happened?”

Derick reached Carol first. “Don’t touch the star,” he blurted out, as Rafa bent down to grab it. “I think it just shocked her.”

“Is she going to be okay?” Abby asked.

Derick put his cheek to Carol’s face. “She’s still breathing.” He checked her pulse for nearly half a minute. “And she’s calming down.” Derick continued to check her breathing every twenty seconds or so, just to be sure.

Carol’s eyes gradually opened. She looked at Derick, who happened to have his head tilted down toward her. She closed her eyes again.

“Are you okay?” Abby asked her friend.

“Shhhh,” Carol said. “Some powerful magic sent me into a deep sleep, like Sleeping Beauty, and I can only be awakened by my true love’s kiss.”

Derick stood up, his concern wiped from his face. “Well, it looks like we’re going to have to figure all of this out without Carol.”

“Oh, come on!” Carol said, sitting up. “That was a magical setup! When are we ever going to have that situation again?”

“Magical?” Derick questioned. “You were shocked unconscious and I was making sure you weren’t dead.”

“Ahhhh,” Carol said, fixing her blonde hair, which was a bit frizzy at the edges. “I knew you cared.”

“Why would Grandpa shock you?” Abby asked. She looked around the room until she found a pair of thick gloves on a work table next to a branch to the Bridge. She slid one glove on and timidly pushed the star. Little sparks arced out of it.

“Toss me that other glove,” Derick said. Once protected, he picked up the ball of wire. He held it for several seconds, but then the glove began to freeze. He dropped it back down on the desk. “It’s seeping out liquid nitrogen or something, because it’s freezing instantly.”

“So apparently we’re supposed to learn to never touch anything,” Carol said.

“There are too many objects to really know yet,” Abby said. She pushed a bowl gingerly. Nothing. Then she held it up off the desk. Several coins slid from a secret compartment near its top into the bottom of the bowl.

“You have made several choices,” Grandpa’s voice said. He had appeared again and gazed in the direction of the desk. “Making choices without knowing the results—or in other words, knowing the future—can be difficult. Perhaps it is somewhat like choosing these items. Each choice has a consequence. Some choices hurt, and some reward. Those coins,” he pointed where the bowl had been, “are rare and worth a good deal of money. I went back in time and stole them from Thomas Jefferson.” He winked. “I’m kidding, but they
are
rare.”